pandapetals

[pandapetals]

Electric Fever

Logan is tired of your attitude so he shuts you up by fucking you on the kitchen table.

dofp!logan howlett x fem!reader - logan is a bit of an ass, no y/n used, no reader description (but has the outfit pictured), cussing, reader has fiery personality, 70s setting, smut, oral, p in v sex, sweetheart/gorgeous/darlin pet names used, dirty talk, slight rough sex, teasing

a/n: Inspired by my favorite tiktok editor @sssiredsss and the weeknd’s part in the the song or nah by ty dolla sign — everyone go watch this edit (https://www.tiktok.com/@sssiredsss/video/7434619192122379553?lang=en). Idk what this is…plot what plot…just roll with it. Reader is very much inspired by daisy jones and her fiery personality. I don’t write smut much so sorry if it sucks also probably will never write smut again because this took like 3 days to write…smut is way harder to write idk why i don’t make the rules.

Logan yanked the car to a halt with a screech that turned a few heads on the crowded street. The engine rumbled in protest, but his growl drowned it out as he twisted toward you.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” His voice was low and gravelly, like the crackle of a vinyl record, but sharp enough to cut.

You snorted, your laugh bitter and razor-edged. “Please. Like you’re any better. You’re the most insufferable asshole I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.” Your glare burned into him, hot enough to scorch through his aviators.

Logan’s jaw flexed as he let out a loud, exaggerated tsk. “Big talk for someone who never shuts up. You’ve got a mouth on you, sweetheart. Always running it, always—”

You didn’t let him finish. “I wouldn’t have to if you learned to shut the fuck up first,” you snapped, shoving the passenger door open. It swung wide and hard, nearly smacking the car parked nearby. 

Your boots hit the pavement with a sharp, deliberate rhythm as you marched across the street toward your apartment, your bag bouncing on your shoulder. You didn’t bother looking back. Logan could talk to himself for all you cared.

“Hey!” Logan’s shout cut through the sidewalk chatter. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

The sound of his car door slamming echoed behind you. You didn’t stop. Didn’t even break stride. 

The heavy thud of his boots was quick to follow, pounding against the pavement as he weaved through annoyed pedestrians, a few cursing under their breath when he barreled past.

You reached your building and dug into your bag for the keys, fingers fumbling against the clutter at the bottom. The old brass door squeaked on its hinges as you shoved it open and stepped inside. “What does it look like?” you tossed over your shoulder. “I’m going inside. Why don’t you do us both a favor and run back to your shitty car?”

Logan groaned behind you, loud and impatient as his hand caught the door before you could slam it. It flew open again with a force that startled you. He stepped into the hallway like he owned the place, closing the door behind him with a firm shove.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, gorgeous.” The corners of his mouth twitched, a cocky smirk fighting its way to the surface. The sunglasses he had been wearing were gone revealing his piercing hazel eyes.

You froze mid-step, the word barely registering as your blood boil. Gorgeous? Did he think this was some kind of game? 

“Haven’t you caused me enough problems for one lifetime?” You whirled on him, jabbing a finger into his chest. He was solid, all muscle and tension under that leather jacket, but you didn’t care. “I mean, seriously, why are you still here? Leave. Find someone else to ruin their fucking day.”

Logan’s hand shot up, gripping your wrist before you could jab him again. His grip was firm, just enough to stop you in your tracks. His expression darkened, that smirk slipping into something far less amused.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “I’d love to leave. You’re giving me a goddamn headache. But Charles would skin me alive if I walked away now. So, why don’t you save us both some time and just show me to your apartment.”

Your teeth clenched, but his grip loosened, and you ripped your hand away. The hallway seemed smaller now, narrower, the tension between you suffocating. Without another word, you turned and stormed up the stairs, your boots thudding against the creaky wood.

When you reached your apartment, your hands betrayed you, fumbling with the keys again. A muttered curse slipped out before you finally shoved the key into the lock, but it was too late. Logan was already behind you.

“You’re really bad at this, you know that?” he drawled. His tone was cool and casual, but you could feel the heat of his presence looming over your shoulder.

The door slammed open, and you stomped inside, dropping your bag onto the floor with a loud thud. You kicked the edge of the sofa with the heel of your boot for good measure, the frustration radiating off you like steam.

“What the hell do you want , Logan?” you snapped, spinning to face him. He was already standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his broad shoulders filling the space like he belonged there. “What’s it going to take for you to fuck off, huh? Because I’m pretty sure Charles didn’t tell you to babysit me.”

He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. If anything, the smirk was back, tugging at the edge of his lips like this was all some kind of cosmic joke.

“You think this is funny?” you spat, taking a step closer. “Let me tell you something, big guy. I don’t need you or anyone else following me around like some overprotective, overgrown guard dog . I’m a grown-ass woman. I can handle myself.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, tilting his head like he was sizing you up. “You can handle yourself, huh?” He took a step forward, closing the gap between you until you had to tilt your chin to glare up at him. “Funny, ‘cause from where I’m standing, you look like someone who’s about to fall apart the second I walk out that door.”

Your nostrils flared, the heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re such a—”

Before you could finish, he cut you off with a raised hand. “Save it.” His voice was calmer now, steadier. “I’m not here to make your life easier, sweetheart. I’m here because I have to be. So why don’t you quit yelling at me and start accepting the fact that you’re stuck with me—for now, anyway.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving, a thousand retorts swirling in your mind but none strong enough to make it out. Logan looked down at you almost daring you to speak again. 

“Fine,” you said at last, voice tight. “But if you’re staying, you better stay the fuck out of my way.” 

You spun on your heel and marched toward the kitchen, your boots hitting the floor hard enough to echo through the apartment. When you reached the tiled edge, you kicked them and your lace cardigan off without ceremony. The boots landed with a loud thud against the wall, one tipping over like it had given up.

Behind you, Logan stayed put, still leaning in the doorway like he owned the place. His shoulders rested against the frame, arms folded, and that leather jacket stretched tight over his chest. He watched you like he had all the time in the world and nowhere better to be.

“Close the damn door, will you?” you snapped over your shoulder. You didn’t wait for a response before yanking the fridge open, the cool air brushing against your face as you scanned the cluttered shelves. “Fucking asshole,” you muttered under your breath.

The sharp slam of the front door made you flinch, the sound rattling the small apartment. A second later, you heard his heavy boots crossing the floor behind you.

“I can hear you, you know,” he drawled, his voice gravelly, edged with annoyance. 

You straightened, grabbing a beer bottle before turning to face him. “Good,” you shot back, popping the cap off with practiced ease and taking a long, deliberate swig. The cold beer slid down your throat as your eyes met his, unflinching. “As if I care.”

Logan was closer than you expected. He hadn’t stopped in the doorway this time. Instead, he stood just a few steps away, his broad frame taking up too much space in the already cramped kitchen. His scowl was firmly in place, but there was something else behind it—a flicker of heat, of something darker, smoldering just beneath the surface.

“You told me to stay out of your way,” he said, his tone sharp but quieter now, almost like a warning. His eyes flicked downward for the briefest second, and that’s when you caught it—a subtle shift, a momentary hesitation. His gaze lingered on your chest, just long enough for you to notice.

The thin white fabric of your tank top clung to your skin, made worse by the lingering summer heat in the apartment. You could feel the weight of his attention before his eyes darted back up to your face, his jaw tightening like he was trying to shove the thought away.

You swallowed the rest of your beer in one long pull, refusing to let him see how the moment made your stomach flip. “Guess you’re not so good at following orders,” you quipped, letting the empty bottle clink against the counter as you set it down.

Logan’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “Depends on the order,” he said, his voice lower now, almost testing you.

The air between you thickened with the unspoken tension crackling like a live wire. He didn’t step back but neither did you.

“You don’t strike me as someone who takes orders,” you replied, your voice steady, though the heat in his gaze made it harder to keep your composure.

“Smart girl.” His tone was mocking, but his eyes told a different story. They dipped again, almost imperceptibly, before locking on yours. He leaned against the counter, his posture casual, but there was nothing casual about the way his body seemed to gravitate toward yours.

You folded your arms across your chest, partially out of defiance, partially because you could still feel the phantom heat of his gaze. “So why don’t you do yourself a favor and leave ?”

Logan’s head tilted slightly, his expression unreadable now, except for the faintest twitch of his lips. “What makes you think I’d listen to you?”

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to glare at him, unwavering. “Because if you don’t, I might do something we both regret.”

His brow arched, and for a second, it looked like he might laugh, but he didn’t. Instead, he pushed off the counter, closing the space between you in one unhurried step. His heat was suffocating now, his presence too big for the small room. The air seemed to have grown thinner by the second.

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice quiet but deliberate like he was daring you to answer. Logan slipped off his leather jacket letting it hit the floor.

Your breath hitched, barely noticeable but enough for his sharp senses to catch it. Logan’s sharp gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and in that charged second, everything else seemed to fade—the sound of the street outside, the hum of the fridge, even the broken rhythm of your heartbeat.

He closed the space between you in a single, deliberate step. His hands were rough as they found your waist, fingers curling against the thin fabric of your tank top. Before you could process it, you were off the floor, his grip strong enough to lift you effortlessly. A soft gasp escaped your lips as your thighs parted instinctively, his hips brushing against your knees as he settled you onto the edge of the kitchen counter.

His body was close—too close—heat radiating off him in waves that seemed to seep into you, blurring the lines between where he ended and you began.

Logan’s lips found yours, hungry and unrelenting, stealing what little breath you had left. There was nothing soft about it—no hesitation, no pretense. It was raw, fiery like the tension that had been building between you for far too long had finally erupted. His stubble scraped against your skin leaving a trail of heat wherever it touched.

His hand moved, fingers skimming the bare skin at the small of your back where your tank top had ridden up, his touch rough but achingly deliberate. Your breath hitched, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, tugging at it, the soft cotton bunching in your hands.

His palm slid higher along your spine, dragging the thin material of your top with it, his touch searing a path up your skin. When he pulled you toward him, it wasn’t a question—it was a command your body couldn’t disobey.

You should’ve stopped him. Should’ve shoved him back and told him to leave, to get the hell out of your apartment. But even thinking it felt like a lie. You knew exactly what Logan did to you—how everything about him, from the gravel in his voice to the roughness of his hands, had your body burning in ways you’d never admit out loud.

Your legs tightened around his waist, instinctive, betraying the heat pooling low in your stomach. His body was solid between your thighs, heat radiating off him like he was built for nothing but trouble.

Logan’s lips hovered just above yours, teasingly close. His breath fanned over your mouth, warm and unrelenting, before he spoke, his voice low and taunting. “You gonna yell at me to leave again?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, every pulse hammering through you like a warning you couldn’t heed. “Maybe,” you shot back, but your voice came out softer than you intended, the bite in your words dulled by the ache he’d already stirred in you.

That smug smirk of his returned, slow and infuriating, his eyes dipping briefly to your lips before rising again to meet your gaze. “Didn’t think so.”

Before you could reply, his hands shifted again. In one swift, fluid movement, he gripped the hem of your tank top and pulled it over your head, the thin fabric gone in an instant. Cool air kissed your bare skin, and you gasped, instinctively leaning into him, your hands fumbling for his shirt.

You tugged it upward, fingers brushing the rough texture of his skin as you peeled it off him, revealing his broad chest. The muscles beneath were taut and dusted with dark hair, his tan skin marked with faint scars that told stories you’d never ask about.

Your palms pressed against his chest, feeling the heat of him beneath your hands, solid and unyielding. Logan’s eyes flicked down to your body, and his lips parted, his breath coming slower, heavier now. 

He leaned in. His head dipped, lips brushing the delicate curve of your neck, the touch sending a shiver racing down your spine. His mouth moved lower, the scrape of his stubble making your skin tingle as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat and your collarbone, until he reached the valley between your breasts.

Your head fell back, hands still splayed against his chest, fingers flexing against the warmth of his skin. “Logan,” you said in a broken gasp, a sound you couldn’t take back, even if you wanted to.

Logan paused at the sound, his lips lingering against your skin. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours again, darker now, his smirk replaced by something far more dangerous—far more consuming.

"Didn’t think you’d be so quiet," Logan murmured, his voice gravelly, thick with heat. His thumb brushed along your side, just below your ribs, the deliberate motion drawing another jolt through you. His gaze darkened, settling on you like he was savoring the way you unraveled beneath his touch. "Guess I’m gonna have to fix that."

Before you could retort, his hand shifted, cupping your breast with a firm, almost possessive grip. The warmth of his calloused palm seared your skin as your breath stuttered, the softest gasp slipping past your lips. His lips followed—rough, unyielding. 

The first sweep of his tongue against your nipple stole whatever biting remark you’d had planned. Your back arched involuntarily, a soft moan escaping before you could stop it. He was relentless, his lips hot and insistent as they worked over you, his teeth grazing just enough to send a shockwave of heat straight through your core.

You didn’t want to react. You didn’t want him to know how easily he had you—how every scrape of his stubble, every rough pull of his lips left you trembling. But the noises spilling from your mouth betrayed you, and when he switched to your other breast, his low, gravelly groan of approval only made it worse.

"Fuck, Logan," you gasped, your hands curling into fists against the counter as he pulled back, his lips red and glistening. You were a mess already—flushed, breathless.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with that maddening mix of cockiness and heat. "Gee, darlin’. A man never touched you before?"

You glared at him, though the breathlessness in your voice betrayed any real venom. "Plenty have, asshole," you shot back, lifting your hips slightly as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your cutoffs.

Logan raised a brow, his smirk widening as he slid the denim down your thighs with unhurried ease, letting it pool at your ankles. His fingers brushed against the bare skin of your hips, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Guess you just really like me then," he muttered, the teasing edge in his voice enough to make your blood boil and your pulse race all at once.

You opened your mouth to fire back, but his hands slid down your thighs, pulling your legs apart. And then he was kneeling, his broad shoulders wedging between your legs as his lips brushed against the inside of your thigh.

"Logan—" Whatever warning you were about to give dissolved into a choked gasp as his mouth found your clit. He wasn’t gentle—his tongue flicked and dragged over you with a hunger that stole the air from your lungs. Your hands shot out, gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself as your knees buckled, the stubble on his jaw scraping against the sensitive skin of your thighs.

"Fuck, faster," you gasped, your head falling back as pleasure rippled through you in waves. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady, his fingers digging into your skin as his mouth worked you over with unrelenting precision.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around his head, but his grip only tightened, keeping you open for him. His groan sent vibrations through you, pulling broken, breathy cries from your lips.

It didn’t take long—his tongue, his mouth, the way his beard scraped deliciously against your skin—it was too much, too fast. Your body arched off the counter as pleasure surged through you, heat pooling and then spilling over as you came apart with a strangled cry of his name.

Logan stood slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his smirk turning feral as he took you in—flushed, panting, still trembling against the counter. "Goddamn, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Didn’t think you’d look this good falling apart for me."

You glared at him, or at least you tried to, your legs still weak beneath you. "You’re such an asshole," you managed, though the breathy tremor in your voice ruined the effect.

Logan chuckled, stepping closer and gripping your waist to pull you flush against him. "Yeah? Doesn’t seem to bother you much," he teased, his lips brushing yours in a rough, heated kiss that left you gasping all over again. 

"Now why don’t you put me down and fuck off," you quipped, though the heat in your tone made the words feel less like a demand and more like a challenge.

He tilted his head, his smirk widening as he pressed a kiss to the curve of your neck, his stubble scraping against your skin in a way that sent another shiver down your spine. "Oh, I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low and dangerous tone. "Were you finished? ‘Cause I’m just getting started."

Before you could react, he pulled you down from the counter and spun you around, his hands gripping your hips and guiding you toward the edge of the wooden table. The cool surface met your flushed skin, the contrast pulling a gasp from your lips as he pressed you forward.

"Logan," you groaned, twisting slightly to glance back at him, but whatever you were about to say vanished the moment you felt him behind you. There was no denying how badly you needed him. 

His jeans hit the floor with a quiet rustle, the sound of his boots being kicked off following shortly after. One hand pressed firmly against the small of your back, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, while the other teased along your thigh.

You bit your lip, anticipation curling low in your stomach as the head of his cock brushed against your folds. 

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" Logan’s voice was a low growl, rough and teasing as his thumb traced lazy circles over your hip. 

Your lips parted, a sharp breath escaping, but your words got tangled between indignation and pure, unfiltered want. The cool surface of the table grounded you, but the heat radiating from him was impossible to ignore, stealing whatever composure you had left.

"Just do it," you finally bit out, your voice shaking—not from fear or nerves, but from the maddening tension he had drawn tight between you.

Logan chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through the air and settling somewhere deep in your chest. His fingers gripped your hip tighter like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to tease you further or finally give in. "So impatient," he muttered, his breath brushing the back of your neck as he leaned over you. "You gotta learn to ask nicely."

You turned your head just enough to glare at him, fire still flashing in your eyes despite the way your body trembled under his touch. "I’m not asking you for shit," you shot back, though the breathlessness in your voice took some of the edge off your words.

He smirked again, that maddening, cocky grin that made you want to slap him and kiss him in equal measure. "Suit yourself," he said, and then you felt him—hot, thick, and unrelenting as he finally pressed into you, his movements slow, deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second.

Your head dropped forward, a soft gasp slipping from your lips as your fingers curled around the edge of the table. Logan’s grip on your hips tightened, holding you steady as he filled you completely, the stretch enough to steal the air from your lungs.

"Fuck," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “Don’t stop, keep going.”

Logan let out a low groan that rumbled in his throat. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His hands flexed against your skin, his nails biting into your hips just enough to make you gasp again. “Wanted me to fill you with my cock?” 

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back just enough to leave you wanting, then slammed into you again, rough and unapologetic, setting a rhythm that had your body arching against the table, every thrust sending a new wave of heat spiraling through you.

"That shut you up," he muttered, his voice rough and strained, though there was still a teasing edge to it, even now. “Fuck, you're taking me so well.” 

You tried to fire back, to give him some snarky reply, but the words dissolved into a broken moan as his pace quickened, his movements growing more desperate, more consuming. Your nails dug into the wood of the table, your knuckles whitening as you tried—and failed—to steady yourself against the onslaught.

"Logan—" His name escaped your lips in a breathy gasp, the sound drawing a satisfied growl from deep in his chest. “Oh god, fuck me harder.” 

"That’s more like it," he murmured, leaning over you until his chest was pressed against your back. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, "Knew you’d sound good for me."

His words sent a shiver racing down your spine, but it was the way his hand slid down your stomach, fingers dipping lower until he found the spot that had you seeing stars, that undid you completely.

Your whole body tensed, your thighs trembling as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. Logan’s hand worked in perfect rhythm with his hips, his rough growls mingling with your breathless cries as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" His voice was strained now, the cockiness giving way to something raw. 

You nodded, unable to form a coherent answer as your body gave in, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your muscles clenched around him, your cries muffled by the table as your fingers curled into fists, your entire body trembling with the force of it.

"Use your words. Tell me how good I make you feel," Logan growled, his voice low and rough, a challenge simmering beneath the command. His hands moved to your hips, holding you in place as he hovered over you, his breath hot against your ear.

But all you could muster was a soft, broken whimper, your lips parting uselessly as your body betrayed you, trembling beneath his touch.

Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound dripping with amusement and just enough arrogance to make your stomach flip. "What’s the matter, gorgeous?" he drawled, his tone mockingly sweet. "You’ve been running that mouth all day, and now you’ve got nothin’ to say?"

Your hands gripped the edge of the table tighter, your knuckles whitening as heat bloomed across your skin. The words were there, somewhere, tangled up in the haze of him—the press of his body against yours, the gravel in his voice, the way he moved like he knew exactly what made you a moaning mess.

Logan wasn’t about to let you off easy. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. "C’mon," he teased, his voice a low purr. "You were so good at tellin’ me what to do earlier. Where’s all that fight now?"

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sound rising in your throat, but it escaped anyway—a soft, needy whine that only made his smirk widen. 

"That’s more like it," he muttered, his hands sliding up your sides, rough palms brushing over your ribs as he shifted closer. He was deliberate, torturously slow, his movements calculated to keep you on the edge. "Didn’t think I’d shut you up this fast. Guess I underestimated myself."

" Logan —" you managed, your voice hoarse, your body arching instinctively toward him.

He cocked his head, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned back just enough to look at you properly, his smirk turning downright wicked. "There she is," he said, his tone laced with mock approval. "Thought I lost you for a second."

Your glare might’ve carried more weight if you weren’t gasping for air, your pulse hammering in your ears. Before you could retort, his hand slid lower, fingers dipping between your thighs in a way that had your head dropped forward, a broken moan spilling from your lips as your body jerked against his hand.

“You’re killin’ me here, sweetheart,” Logan groaned, his voice rough and fraying at the edges. His rhythm faltered for a moment, “Fucking clenching around me so hard... I know you wanna come again.”

Your body answered before your words could. The tension coiled deep in your core snapped hard and fast, a gasp tearing from your throat as the wave crashed over you. Your legs trembled, your release spilling over and dripping down your thighs, soaking him in the process.

Logan cursed under his breath, his voice catching as his hips stuttered against yours. “Atta girl,” he muttered, his tone low and gravelly, thick with satisfaction. “Now hold still.”

His fingers dug into your skin, holding you steady as he buried himself deep inside you one final time. His movements stilled, and for a moment, all you could feel was the press of his chest against your back, his breath warm and ragged against your neck. A low growl rumbled in his throat, vibrating through your skin, as his release hit him, sharp and unrelenting.

The room fell still, the air heavy with the aftershocks of everything that had just unfolded. The only sounds left were your ragged breaths and the low hum of the fridge in the corner—a quiet, grounding reminder that the world outside still existed, even if it felt far away.

Logan was the first to move, his hands easing their grip on your hips as he straightened. He lingered for a moment, the warmth of his fingertips trailing lightly over your damp skin, a touch far softer than anything he’d given you before. Then, with a quiet sigh, he stepped away, leaving a fleeting chill in his absence.

“You okay there, darlin’?” he asked, his voice still rough but softer now, like he was testing the waters.

You turned your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder, your hair clinging to the sweat on your neck and shoulders. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice was hoarse and shaky, betraying the way your body still hummed with the afterglow.

Logan’s smirk returned, slow and lazy, the kind of grin that said he’d already known your answer before he asked. “Didn’t sound fine a minute ago,” he teased, his eyes glinting with smug amusement as they roamed over you, drinking in the sight of you still catching your breath.

You rolled your eyes, pressing your palms into the table to push yourself upright. Your arms wobbled, and your legs felt weak beneath you, but you managed to stand, your back straightening as you turned to face him. “You’re insufferable,” you said, but the words lacked bite, your tone soft, almost playful.

Logan didn’t miss a beat. His hands found your waist again, steadying you even though his touch lingered longer than it needed to. His eyes traveled over you, unhurried, his smirk deepening as he took in every detail—the flushed glow of your skin, the way your chest still rose and fell unevenly.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and shamelessly confident. “But I bet you’d beg me to fuck you again, wouldn’t you?”

Heat flared in your chest, but whether it was from anger or the way his words sent a fresh jolt of heat through you, you weren’t sure. Your lips parted, ready to fire back, but no words came. The smirk on his face widened, and you hated how much he was enjoying this—how much you were enjoying this.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered finally, brushing past him and scooping your tank top off the floor. You tugged it back over your head, your movements sharp, as if covering yourself would help regain some of the control he’d stolen.

Logan chuckled, low and rumbling, the sound chasing you as you crossed the room. “What can I say? I aim to please.” His voice followed you, smug and unapologetic like he already knew exactly how deep he was under your skin.

You stopped at the counter, leaning against it to steady yourself as you grabbed a glass of water. The chill of the glass grounded you, even as you felt Logan’s eyes still on you, his gaze as heavy as the tension still lingering in the air.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he said, his tone dipping into something darker that made your stomach flip. “Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll think you’re ready for another round.”

You turned, glass in hand, narrowing your eyes at him despite the way your heart raced. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, but the breathless hitch in your voice betrayed you.

Logan only grinned, stepping closer like he couldn’t help himself. “Too late,” he said, his hand brushing against the edge of the counter as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him all over again.

[pandapetals]

[pandapetals]

Ruined Surprise & Birthday Trip

Logan tries to buy a gift for your birthday only to have it ruined.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

It was rare for Logan to suggest going into town—usually, he grumbled about crowds and small talk, preferring the solitude of the mansion. So when he’d casually suggested a trip downtown, you’d blinked in surprise, half wondering if you’d misheard him.

“You… want to willingly go into town?” you asked, brows raised.

Logan scowled, crossing his arms. “Yeah, sweetheart. Don’t look so surprised,” he muttered, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You’d agreed, thrilled at the prospect of visiting the bookstore to check out the new bestsellers. Little did you know, Logan had an ulterior motive. Your birthday was coming up, and Ororo had mentioned a shop downtown that sold dresses. She’d let it slip that the last time you and she had gone shopping, you’d fallen in love with a particular dress—a flowy, deep blue number that you’d admired for a solid ten minutes before putting it back, insisting you didn’t need it since you rarely had a reason to dress up.

Logan remembered the way you’d lit up talking about that dress to Ororo over dinner, and the idea of surprising you with something you truly wanted, well… it stuck with him. 

He could already picture your face when you opened the box, how your eyes would go wide and that soft smile he loved so much would spread across your lips. And then, just when you thought the surprise was over, he’d tell you he’d planned a weeklong getaway for the two of you—someplace where you could wear that dress as often as you wanted.

Now, he was standing outside the boutique, hands stuffed in his pockets, feeling more out of place than ever. The storefront was bright and airy, with mannequins dressed in floral prints and pastel colors—decidedly not his territory. 

He sucked in a breath and stepped inside, ignoring the immediate urge to turn around and bolt.

The shop was even worse on the inside. Every surface seemed to glitter or shine, racks full of delicate, flowy fabrics that looked like they’d tear just from a hard stare. The walls were painted a cheery pastel pink, and some floral fragrance in the air made him want to sneeze. Logan shifted uncomfortably, glancing around like he was preparing for a sneak attack.

He tried to look casual as he scanned the racks, hunting for the blue dress Ororo had described, but his every move seemed to attract attention. A young, fashionably dressed employee sidled up to him, her expression a mixture of amusement and… something else he didn’t quite like.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked, her voice lilting with polite curiosity but her eyes betraying a hint of judgment as she took in his rugged clothes, the faded jacket, and usual scowl.

Logan grunted, trying to sound polite, though it didn’t come out quite right. “Just lookin’,” he muttered, shifting his weight and wishing the place had darker lighting or a less floral smell.

The employee’s smile turned tight, and her gaze lingered a bit too long on his worn leather jacket and calloused hands. “Well,” she said, her tone verging on condescending, “we have a few… men’s items by the front if you’re interested. Cologne, wallets, that sort of thing.”

Logan clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. “Not lookin’ for a wallet,” he replied tersely, eyes narrowing as he scanned the racks once more. “Lookin’ for a dress.”

The employee’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and her smile became a little forced. “Oh… a dress? For, um… someone special?”

“Yeah,” Logan answered, his tone clipped. He spotted a flash of blue fabric on a nearby rack and immediately headed toward it, leaving the employee standing there, blinking after him.

After a bit of searching, he found it—the dress Ororo had mentioned. Soft, elegant, and exactly the shade that would make your eyes stand out. He could practically see you in it, twirling around with that shy smile, maybe laughing at the idea of him picking it out.

He made his way to the register, the dress draped carefully over his arm, ignoring the way the employee’s gaze followed him with barely hidden skepticism. As he reached the counter, he noticed her pulling out a fancy tissue-paper-lined bag, the kind that screamed, look at this overpriced gift.

Logan cleared his throat. “Don’t bother with the bag,” he said, keeping his tone as neutral as he could manage. “I’ll just… uh, I’ll carry it out.”

The employee raised an eyebrow, looking at him like he was the strangest man alive. “You don’t want it wrapped?” she asked, incredulous. “We offer free gift wrapping, and it would probably… well, keep the dress safe.”

Logan shifted, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Nah. Just hand it over,” he insisted, pulling his jacket open slightly. “I’ll, uh, just tuck it in here.” He gestured at the inside of his coat, planning to hide it under the leather so you wouldn’t see it if you wandered out of the bookstore early.

The employee’s look of disbelief turned to outright condescension. “Sir, this is a dress. You… don’t just stuff it in a jacket,” she said, her tone making it clear she thought he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

Logan’s jaw tightened, irritation flashing in his eyes. “Look, just hand it over,” he said, trying not to snap. “I don’t need a bag. I don’t need tissue paper. Just the damn dress.”

She pursed her lips, clearly unimpressed, but after a moment, she complied, handing it over with a sigh as if she couldn’t believe she was letting him walk out of the store like that. Logan stuffed the dress carefully inside his jacket, folding it as neatly as he could without creasing it too much, and then turned to leave, the employee’s skeptical gaze boring into his back.

As he stepped out onto the street, he exhaled a long breath, relieved to be away from the pastel walls and judgmental stares. He glanced down, making sure the dress was safely tucked away, hidden from view.

Moments later, Logan spotted you coming out of the bookstore, a stack of books piled up in your arms and a contented smile lighting up your face. He felt a little flutter of nerves—something he wasn’t used to—and forced himself to keep a straight face. When you caught sight of him, you grinned, hurrying over.

"Find anything interesting?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you noticed the odd bulge under his jacket.

Logan shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Nah," he said, his tone as casual as he could muster, though he couldn’t quite keep a small, secretive smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just… picked up a little something. Nothin' important."

Your eyes narrowed playfully. "Is that so?" you replied, clearly suspicious.

Before you could probe further, Logan threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you down the street in the opposite direction. You walked in comfortable silence until you spotted a familiar storefront and came to a sudden halt, eyes lighting up.

"Oh! That boutique!" you exclaimed, pointing to the shop with a glint in your eye. "They had the most amazing dress last time I was here. Let’s go inside—"

"Uh, no!" Logan said quickly, cutting you off with a little too much force, causing you to raise your brows.

"Why not?" you asked, half amused, half curious.

He cleared his throat, searching for an excuse. "I just… it’s not my kinda place, alright? You go on ahead," he added with a smirk, trying to play off his awkwardness.

"Fine," you replied, giving him a skeptical look as you handed over the books. "But you’re holding my books, tough guy. Don’t drop them," you teased, shoving the books into his hands. He let out a reluctant chuckle as he took them, watching you head toward the shop.

As Logan made his way back to his truck to stash the books, you slipped into the boutique, already scanning the racks for the dress you’d admired with Ororo. The shop was just as charming as you remembered, with racks of delicate fabrics and an air of quiet elegance. 

You made a beeline for the rack where you’d last seen the dress, quickly scanning for any sign of it before a frown formed on your face. The dress was nowhere to be found.

Puzzled, you approached the counter, where a young employee was restocking a display of scarves. "Excuse me," you began politely, "I was wondering if you still had this blue dress? It was on display a few weeks ago—soft fabric, kind of a deep sapphire color?"

The employee looked up, her expression shifting to one of mild irritation as she sized you up. "Oh, that dress?" she replied, a hint of condescension creeping into her tone. "I’m afraid it’s gone."

You blinked, surprised. "Gone? Already? It’s been here for weeks!"

She gave a dismissive shrug, her lips curling into a slight smirk. "Yeah, some… rugged, gruff guy came in and bought it earlier," she said, her tone implying she found the whole thing bizarre. "Didn’t exactly seem like the type to shop here. Honestly, it was a little strange."

You felt your heart skip a beat, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as realization dawned on you. Logan had bought it. You should have known—his awkward insistence on carrying your books, his weird reluctance to enter the shop… it all made sense now. A warmth spread through your chest, but you tried to keep a straight face.

"Well," you said, your voice tinged with humor as you looked back at the employee, "if you thought he was out of place, you should meet my husband."

Before she could respond, the door chimed, and in strolled Logan, glancing around with a slightly bored expression—until his eyes landed on you. He froze, catching the look on your face, and immediately knew you’d figured it out.

The employee’s face went pale as she connected the dots, watching Logan walk over with a wary expression. "Oh… he’s your… husband?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s eyes flicked to the employee, then back to you, his face breaking into a smirk as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "Everythin’ alright, darlin’?" he asked, his voice rough but warm, laced with a protective edge.

The employee swallowed, clearly flustered now. "I, uh, was just… explaining that the dress… it’s been… sold," she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between you and Logan.

Logan raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable but his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah? I know. Picked it up earlier," he said, glancing at you with a hint of a grin. "Thought it’d make a good birthday present for my wife here."

You felt a surge of affection as he spoke, and you shot the employee a polite but pointed smile. "See? Guess that gruff, rugged guy had pretty good taste after all," you said lightly, squeezing Logan’s arm.

The employee managed a tight smile, clearly embarrassed. "Well… uh, good choice," she mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

Logan gave a small nod, his smirk widening as he looked down at you. "Ready to go, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice softening just enough for you to catch the warmth behind his usual gruffness.

You nodded, barely able to contain your smile as you leaned into him. "More than ready."

As the two of you left the shop, you glanced up at Logan, feeling a rush of warmth. "So," you murmured, once you were a safe distance away, "this was why you wanted to come into town so suddenly?"

Logan shrugged, looking a little sheepish but trying to play it cool. "Might’ve been," he muttered, glancing away. "Figured you deserved somethin’ nice."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, slipping your arm around his waist as the two of you strolled down the street together. "You know," you teased, giving him a sidelong glance, "for a 'gruff, rugged guy,' you’re pretty damn thoughtful."

Logan huffed, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he pulled you closer, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to your temple. "Yeah, well," he murmured, his voice gruff but soft, "I guess since the surprise is ruined—"

"Nope! Not ruined," you cut him off, shaking your head with a mischievous grin. "In fact, I’m gonna totally forget that you bought me the dress. I’ll just act completely surprised on my birthday." You paused, looking up at him with an exaggerated, innocent expression. "See? What dress? I don’t remember a dress. Are we talking about a dress?"

Logan chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You’re ridiculous," he muttered, but his arm tightened around your shoulders, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe," you replied, grinning up at him. "But you love it."

He let out a soft sigh, as though he was trying to sound exasperated, but his gaze was soft as he looked down at you. "Guess I do," he admitted, brushing a thumb along your jaw before leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

When he pulled back, his expression turned mock-serious, though his eyes were still twinkling. "Just remember," he said, tapping your nose gently, "when you open that dress, I expect full-on shock, maybe even a tear or two."

You laughed, nodding solemnly. "Oh, I’ll deliver. You’ll be convinced I had no idea. I’ll even throw in a dramatic gasp for extra points."

Logan smirked, shaking his head. "I don’t know what I got myself into with you," he murmured, but there was nothing but love in his eyes as he said it.

────୨ৎ────

Logan had to give you credit—you’d really leaned into the performance when you opened his gift, letting out a dramatic gasp and grinning as you picked up the dress you’d already knew he’d bought. Your fingers traced over the soft fabric, your face lighting up as if it were the first time you’d seen it.

"Oh my God, Logan!" you exclaimed, holding it up and admiring it. "It’s perfect. Thank you."

He chuckled, clearly amused by your theatrics, but there was warmth in his gaze. "Of course, sweetheart," he murmured, pulling you into his arms. "I’d say it was worth dealin’ with that boutique just to see that smile."

You wrapped your arms around him, snuggling into his chest. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, though you could hear the affection behind his gruff tone. He pulled back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now, how about you try it on for me?"

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you swatted his chest. "Later, tough guy. I still have some dignity."

"Do you now?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. Before you could reply, he tilted his head and gave you a look. "Didn’t notice the card, did ya?"

You looked up at him, puzzled. "A card?"

"Check the box," he said, crossing his arms with that knowing grin of his.

Curious, you reached back into the gift box, your fingers brushing over the tissue paper until you felt a small envelope tucked beneath the layers. You pulled it out, glancing up at him with a questioning look as you opened it. Inside was a handwritten note:

"Pack your bags, sweetheart. We’re headin’ out for a week. Just you, me, and a place that I think you’ll love."

You blinked, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Wait… a week? You’re taking me somewhere? Where are we going?"

Logan’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. "It’s a surprise," he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "But let’s just say… it’s a place for bookworms. Figured you’d appreciate it."

The next morning, Logan packed up the truck and you hit the road, driving for hours until you arrived at a quiet, picturesque town nestled by a shimmering lake. The town was like something out of a novel—narrow, cobblestone streets lined with charming bookstores, cozy cafes, and tiny shops selling everything from handmade journals to vintage novels. You felt like you’d stepped into another world.

"Welcome to your personal literary paradise," Logan said, his voice low and warm as he helped you out of the truck.

Your eyes lit up as you took in the view. "Logan, this place is… it’s perfect."

He shrugged, though you could see the pride in his eyes. "Figured you might like it."

After settling into a quaint little inn overlooking the lake, Logan handed you a brochure he’d picked up in town. "Turns out they got all sorts of book-related tours here," he said, sounding only slightly amused. "One’s a walking tour of spots that supposedly inspired some big-shot authors. Figured we could do that if you’re interested."

"I love it," you said, grinning as you flipped through the brochure, the excitement bubbling up in your chest. "I can’t believe you planned all this."

He chuckled, sliding an arm around your shoulders. "Can’t have you thinkin’ I don’t listen when you go on about books, sweetheart."

The next few days were a dream. You spent hours wandering through rows of rare books, getting lost in cozy bookstores, and sipping coffee in quaint little cafes while Logan watched you with that soft, steady gaze of his. In the evenings, you’d return to the inn, where he’d build a fire and sit with you on the balcony, the lake shimmering under the moonlight.

On your last night, Logan took you to a quiet spot by the lake. The stars were out in full force, reflecting off the water, and you couldn’t help but sigh as you looked up at the sky. "This feels like something out of a novel," you murmured, leaning into his side.

Logan chuckled, pulling you closer. "Yeah, well, you’re the one who keeps sayin’ life’s better with a little drama and romance," he teased. "Figured I’d give you the full experience."

You looked up at him with a grin. "If we’re talking romance novels, then you’re definitely the brooding, mysterious hero. The one with the tragic past and the soft heart under all the gruffness."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, is that so?"

"Absolutely." You nodded, feigning a serious expression. "You know, when I first met you I thought, Yep, that’s the hero from Chapter One. Rough around the edges, but with a heart of gold."

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You thought that, huh?"

"Yep," you said, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Over time, you proved it to me even though it took some time for you to warm up to me.”

He let out a soft chuckle, but there was a tenderness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “Good thing I did,” he murmured, brushing his fingers along your cheek. "Or I’d missed out on the best thing ever happening to me.”

Your smile softened, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss under the starlit sky. "Thank you, Logan," you whispered against his lips. "For everything."

"Anything for you, darlin’," he replied, his voice barely more than a murmur. "Happy birthday."

[pandapetals]

ੈ♡˳ 'lonely nights' - 18+ drover x gn!reader

summary: drover misses you while droving, imagining your body against his inside his tent. you're not here, so he supposes his hand will have to do. . . (700 words) tags: drover jerks off thinking of you, dirty talk, established relationship, breeding mention, no use of y/n, gn reader, drover fantasises about reader.

drover misses you, always misses you, but he keeps that thought to himself until he's tucked away inside the safety of his tent while on this particularly long drove. if the boys catch wind of him pining for you it'd be all over, he'd never hear the end of it. so he waits until he's alone, eyes fixed on the canvas material above him.

he thinks of you, envisions your body above him, nestled neatly into his lap right where you belong. drover swears he can almost feel you, feel the weight of your hips pushing down against his, your clothed heat throbbing with want, with need. it makes his head spin and his cock ache and, fuck, he needs you.

but you're not here. he's alone with his memories and the knowledge that you're miles and miles away, hopefully missing him too.

he wonders if you think about him, wrapped in warm sheets, head dotted with droplets of sweat, calling his name behind the palm clamped over your desperate lips as your eager hand works between your legs. . . is that what you're doing right now? teasing yourself with a touch you know will never satisfy you like he does?

are you hot for him? sweating and panting as you silently beg for his cock? how often, he wonders, do you find yourself grinding against your own palm, stealing glances at the space he used to occupy in bed?

before he knows it, he's palming himself through his boxers, coaxing his half-hard length to attention. it's not you, but it'll have to do. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, hand snaking beneath the material to give himself a squeeze.

drover paints pictures of you behind his eyelids, the curve of your body, the sweet sound you make when you moan, the warmth he feels when you wrap around him so perfectly - it creates an atmosphere so strong he swears you're really here with him.

his hand works his cock, pumping in a slow rhythm, imagining you bouncing above him with your hands planted firmly on his chest. 'that's it baby,' he'd say, 'feel good bouncin' on my cock? you miss me?'

raising his free hand towards his mouth, he bites down on a knuckle to muffle his groans. he's lost in the thought of you, the thought of fucking up into your eager hole, remembering the way you flutter around him when you get close. his thumb swipes across his sensitive tip, precum beading in anticipation of release.

god, what he wouldn't give right now to cum deep inside you. that was always his favourite part, the way you'd twitch and gasp as he fills you to the brim with his hot load. you took it so well, like you were made for him to breed you. . .

shit, his thoughts are in the gutter again, but it's easy for him to find himself there when he thinks of you.

hips rising, he finds himself bucking into his fist, a pistoning rhythm that threatens to send him over the edge. he's close, whispering your name, hoping it's quiet enough to get lost in the ambience of the still outback surrounding his tent. he imagines grabbing your hips, feeling the supple curves of your body, holding you down and filling you up.

it's all too much.

drover explodes, hot cum flooding across his chiselled tan stomach, dripping down along his hand as he works himself through his release. he gasps, head tilting back as his adam's apple bobs with every thirsty swallow. "take it, fuck. . ." he whispers under his breath, aftershocks rippling through his sensitive body.

the storm clears, the paintings of you behind his eyelids fading as he settles into the calm of the night, quelling his hunger for the time being.

but he still misses you, every day.

in a couple of weeks, drover'll finally see you again, coming home. that thought keeps him going on particularly taxing days. a smile tugs at the corner of his lips at the thought of taking you into the bedroom and showing you just how much he's missed you. what a mess he'll make of you, how he'll worship your body, litter kisses along your calf until he reaches the apex of your thighs, finding home in the body he knows as well as his own.

[pandapetals]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ masterlist

𓆩♡𓆪 chapters:

1854 - could it be love?

1880 - labyrinth of my heart

1900 - with you i'm free

1943 - wounds and whispers

1973 - we meet again my dear...

1974 - ...but it was never meant to be

2003 - i can see us lost in the memory

2003 - who are we to fight the alchemy?

2004 - i love you, i'm sorry

more to be added...

𓆩♡𓆪 summary: Logan has spent lifetimes haunted by a curse only he understands—meeting the same woman, you, in every era, only to lose you over and over again. Each time, you’re reborn without memories of your past lives, while Logan, who remembers everything, tries in vain to protect you from the tragedies that seem destined to follow.

𓆩♡𓆪 pairing: Logan Howlett (X-Men) x fem!reader

𓆩♡𓆪 tags: fluff, angst, character death(s), outdated mindsets on women, mention of injuries, more tags to be added (more specific tags come along with chapter)

[pandapetals]

Literally same! All men should feel what it feels like. It’s the most painful thing ever. 😭

Period Cramps

You find Rogue, Jean and Storm complaining that men don't get period cramps.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

a/n: Hehehe i saw a art (from@pequena_padawan on tiktok) of scott being projected with period cramps so i wrote this.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

“I swear, men just don’t get it,” Rogue complained, stretching out on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

You walked into the living room with a raised brow, catching the exasperated look on her face. “Men don’t get what?” you asked, setting your mug down and joining them.

Jean glanced up from where she sat, an amused smirk playing on her lips. “Period cramps,” she replied. “Rogue was just telling us how Remy thought a heating pad would magically make everything better—like that’s all it takes.”

Ororo shook her head with a chuckle. “Oh, that’s nothing. I once had Kurt ask me if periods actually hurt, or if women just liked to be dramatic about it.” She raised an eyebrow, and all of you groaned.

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, flopping down on the couch beside Rogue. “One time, Logan had the audacity to say, ‘It can’t be that bad, right?’ I’ve never seen a man regret his words so fast.”

Rogue laughed, nudging you. “Logan? Mr. Tough Guy said that?” She grinned, shaking her head. “I thought he’d be more careful with that mouth of his around you.”

“Trust me, even Logan has his clueless moments,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Sometimes I think men are just wired to be oblivious about this stuff.”

Right on cue, Logan and Scott walked into the room, their arms full of bags from a grocery run. They exchanged glances, clearly sensing the united front of irritation in the room, but Logan couldn’t help himself.

“What’s with the looks?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, just discussing period cramps and how none of you guys get it,” Jean replied sweetly, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Scott scoffed, setting the bags on the counter. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. It’s just a little cramp, right?” he said, shooting a clueless grin at Logan, who smirked in agreement.

Jean and Ororo exchanged a glance, and before you knew it, Jean was subtly pressing her fingers to her temple, her eyes narrowing with a mischievous focus.

Suddenly, Logan and Scott’s faces twisted in unison. Logan's smirk vanished as his brows knitted together in confusion, then pain. Scott doubled over slightly, clutching his stomach as his face went pale.

“What the hell—?” Logan growled, his voice strained. His hand went to his lower abdomen, his eyes widening in bewilderment. “What… what is this?”

Jean crossed her arms, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “That, gentlemen, is what a ‘little cramp’ feels like,” she said, barely holding back her laughter.

Scott’s eyes shot up to her, panicked. “Are… are you doing this?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jean replied, giving a little shrug. “Thought you two could use a little empathy lesson.”

Just then, Xavier wheeled in, his eyebrow raised as he took in the scene. “What’s all this commotion?” he asked, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he surveyed Logan and Scott, both clutching their stomachs and grimacing.

“Oh, Professor,” Ororo said with a grin. “The boys were just getting a taste of period cramps. Jean thought they needed some perspective.”

Xavier’s lips quirked up into a subtle smile. “Well, it does seem they could use a little… enlightenment,” he mused, pressing his fingers to his temple as well. You felt a slight ripple in the air, and then, judging by the way Logan practically doubled over, the cramps intensified.

“God— damn , Charles!” Logan barked out, his face twisted in agony as he shot Xavier a betrayed look. “Are you both in on this?”

Xavier raised an eyebrow, entirely unbothered. “Perhaps next time, you’ll think twice before dismissing someone else’s pain.” His tone was mild, but his amusement was unmistakable.

Scott looked like he was about to cry, clutching his side as he turned to Jean. “Alright, alright—I get it! I get it! Just… please, make it stop.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Logan threw you an almost pleading look, his tough-guy façade thoroughly shattered. He was sweating, his hand clutching his abdomen like he was in a wrestling match with his own body.

“Oh, it can’t be that bad, right?” you teased, grinning up at him.

Logan’s glare softened just a bit, though he let out a strangled grunt. “I’m… I’m sorry, okay?” he managed to grit out. “I’ll never say another word about period cramps again. Just—tell them to stop.”

You exchanged a look with Jean, who finally lifted her finger from her temple releasing her telepathic grip. Logan and Scott straightened up slowly, breathing hard as the ghost of the cramps faded.

Logan glared at you, though there was a hint of reluctant admiration in his gaze. “You’re ruthless, you know that?” he muttered, reaching out to steady himself against the couch.

You leaned up, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now you understand. And next time, maybe you’ll keep your commentary to yourself.”

Logan shook his head, rubbing his abdomen. “Remind me never to cross you and Jean,” he muttered, glancing over at Scott, who looked equally traumatized.

Ororo let out a laugh, clapping her hands. “Lesson learned, then. Welcome to our world, boys.”

Logan shot you one last look, half-grumbling, half-amused. “I still think you’re all insane,” he mumbled, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You leaned against his arm, smirking. “Just remember that next time you think about underestimating us.”

[pandapetals]

Period Cramps

You find Rogue, Jean and Storm complaining that men don't get period cramps.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

a/n: Hehehe i saw a art (from@pequena_padawan on tiktok) of scott being projected with period cramps so i wrote this.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

“I swear, men just don’t get it,” Rogue complained, stretching out on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

You walked into the living room with a raised brow, catching the exasperated look on her face. “Men don’t get what?” you asked, setting your mug down and joining them.

Jean glanced up from where she sat, an amused smirk playing on her lips. “Period cramps,” she replied. “Rogue was just telling us how Remy thought a heating pad would magically make everything better—like that’s all it takes.”

Ororo shook her head with a chuckle. “Oh, that’s nothing. I once had Kurt ask me if periods actually hurt, or if women just liked to be dramatic about it.” She raised an eyebrow, and all of you groaned.

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, flopping down on the couch beside Rogue. “One time, Logan had the audacity to say, ‘It can’t be that bad, right?’ I’ve never seen a man regret his words so fast.”

Rogue laughed, nudging you. “Logan? Mr. Tough Guy said that?” She grinned, shaking her head. “I thought he’d be more careful with that mouth of his around you.”

“Trust me, even Logan has his clueless moments,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Sometimes I think men are just wired to be oblivious about this stuff.”

Right on cue, Logan and Scott walked into the room, their arms full of bags from a grocery run. They exchanged glances, clearly sensing the united front of irritation in the room, but Logan couldn’t help himself.

“What’s with the looks?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, just discussing period cramps and how none of you guys get it,” Jean replied sweetly, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Scott scoffed, setting the bags on the counter. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. It’s just a little cramp, right?” he said, shooting a clueless grin at Logan, who smirked in agreement.

Jean and Ororo exchanged a glance, and before you knew it, Jean was subtly pressing her fingers to her temple, her eyes narrowing with a mischievous focus.

Suddenly, Logan and Scott’s faces twisted in unison. Logan's smirk vanished as his brows knitted together in confusion, then pain. Scott doubled over slightly, clutching his stomach as his face went pale.

“What the hell—?” Logan growled, his voice strained. His hand went to his lower abdomen, his eyes widening in bewilderment. “What… what is this?”

Jean crossed her arms, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “That, gentlemen, is what a ‘little cramp’ feels like,” she said, barely holding back her laughter.

Scott’s eyes shot up to her, panicked. “Are… are you doing this?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jean replied, giving a little shrug. “Thought you two could use a little empathy lesson.”

Just then, Xavier wheeled in, his eyebrow raised as he took in the scene. “What’s all this commotion?” he asked, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he surveyed Logan and Scott, both clutching their stomachs and grimacing.

“Oh, Professor,” Ororo said with a grin. “The boys were just getting a taste of period cramps. Jean thought they needed some perspective.”

Xavier’s lips quirked up into a subtle smile. “Well, it does seem they could use a little… enlightenment,” he mused, pressing his fingers to his temple as well. You felt a slight ripple in the air, and then, judging by the way Logan practically doubled over, the cramps intensified.

“God— damn , Charles!” Logan barked out, his face twisted in agony as he shot Xavier a betrayed look. “Are you both in on this?”

Xavier raised an eyebrow, entirely unbothered. “Perhaps next time, you’ll think twice before dismissing someone else’s pain.” His tone was mild, but his amusement was unmistakable.

Scott looked like he was about to cry, clutching his side as he turned to Jean. “Alright, alright—I get it! I get it! Just… please, make it stop.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Logan threw you an almost pleading look, his tough-guy façade thoroughly shattered. He was sweating, his hand clutching his abdomen like he was in a wrestling match with his own body.

“Oh, it can’t be that bad, right?” you teased, grinning up at him.

Logan’s glare softened just a bit, though he let out a strangled grunt. “I’m… I’m sorry, okay?” he managed to grit out. “I’ll never say another word about period cramps again. Just—tell them to stop.”

You exchanged a look with Jean, who finally lifted her finger from her temple releasing her telepathic grip. Logan and Scott straightened up slowly, breathing hard as the ghost of the cramps faded.

Logan glared at you, though there was a hint of reluctant admiration in his gaze. “You’re ruthless, you know that?” he muttered, reaching out to steady himself against the couch.

You leaned up, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now you understand. And next time, maybe you’ll keep your commentary to yourself.”

Logan shook his head, rubbing his abdomen. “Remind me never to cross you and Jean,” he muttered, glancing over at Scott, who looked equally traumatized.

Ororo let out a laugh, clapping her hands. “Lesson learned, then. Welcome to our world, boys.”

Logan shot you one last look, half-grumbling, half-amused. “I still think you’re all insane,” he mumbled, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You leaned against his arm, smirking. “Just remember that next time you think about underestimating us.”

[pandapetals]

…i have an idea that im unsure on whether or not i can write it myself & i’m OBSESSED with how well you always characterize logan so hear me out

i’m always thinking about the boxing scene in origins, so perhaps some boxer!logan where he’s teaching his girlfriend self defense in the gym after hours? you can make it as steamy or fluffy as you want!

i’ve just been dying to submit a request because i’m a fan of your work <3

AHH, thank you so much. I love your account so much! I have been wanting to write about Boxer Logan for some time so this request is literally perfect.

boxer!logan howlett x fem!reader - fluff, fighting, teasing, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, soft logan, established relationship

"Alright, sweetheart," Logan said, his voice a low rumble that echoed off the empty gym walls. He stood in front of you, hands casually raised. The white tank top he wore clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and the sheen of it caught in the flickering overhead lights. He rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing in a way that seemed entirely unfair. "You gotta learn how to defend yourself."

You fiddled with the straps of the red gloves he’d given you, tugging at them. "I know, Logan," you said, arching a brow, "but do we really need to do this? I mean, c’mon—what’s the point? I don’t want to hurt you."

He laughed, the sound warm and deep. "Hurt me? Darlin’, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried." He tilted his head at you. "But you’re welcome to give it a shot."

You narrowed your eyes, torn between amusement and the urge to wipe that smug look off his face. He looked too at ease, standing there with his hands up and that teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, fine," you huffed, stepping forward. "But don’t come crying to me if I accidentally break that pretty nose of yours."

"Pretty?" He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"You would," you muttered under your breath.

Logan spread his feet into a fighting stance, nodding toward you. "C’mon, then. First lesson—don’t telegraph. You gotta keep me guessing." He raised a hand to gesture toward your shoulder. "See, you’re tense here. Makes it obvious what you’re about to do. Relax."

"Relax? That’s easy for you to say," you shot back, shaking out your arms. "You don’t have to punch you."

"Exactly," he said with a wink. "Now focus. Don’t think. Just swing."

Taking a deep breath, you stepped in and threw a jab toward his chest—not too hard, but enough to show you meant business. Logan dodged it effortlessly, leaning to the side as though it were a breeze that brushed past him. He gave you an almost pitying look, clicking his tongue.

"Sloppy," he teased, circling you like a predator playing with its prey. "That all you got, sweetheart? I thought you said you didn’t wanna hurt me."

You glared at him, your cheeks heating. "Oh, I will hurt you, Logan," you shot back, a spark of determination lighting in your chest. "Just wait."

He chuckled, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "That’s more like it. Now stop aiming for where I am—aim for where I’m gonna be."

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing as you watched him move. He was testing you, but there was something about the glint in his eye—like he was enjoying this, not just the sparring, but you. You tried to read him, to guess his next step, and when he shifted ever so slightly, you swung again, this time aiming lower.

To your surprise, he stepped right into it, catching your gloved hand in his palm with a sharp smack. His grip was firm but careful, and he grinned down at you, clearly pleased. "Not bad," he said, his voice softening. "You’re getting there."

You groaned, tugging your hand back. "You let me get that one."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, the cocky edge returning. "But you still gotta work on your follow-through. What if I wasn’t nice enough to stop it, huh?"

"Nice? You’re about as nice as a brick wall," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from the way he was looking at you.

Logan’s grin softened into something almost fond. "You’ve got more fight in you than you think," he said, reaching out to gently adjust your stance. His hands lingered on your shoulders for just a second before he stepped back. "Now, one more time. And this time, I want you to mean it."

You nodded, steeling yourself. He was still smirking, but there was something else there too—a flicker of pride, maybe, or just the satisfaction of seeing you rise to the challenge. Whatever it was, you weren’t about to let him down.

You shifted your weight, fixing your gaze on his chest as if it were a target. Then, without warning, you lunged forward, throwing your whole body into the punch. He moved to dodge, but this time you were ready—you adjusted mid-swing, your fist just grazing his ribs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him blink, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Well, look at that," Logan said, stepping back and rubbing his side with exaggerated drama. "You almost got me."

"Almost?" you said, crossing your arms. "Pretty sure I felt that connect." 

"Sure, sure," he said, smirking as he leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Next time, maybe try a little harder. You might even make me flinch."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Whatever, let’s just go again.” You stepped back, shaking out your hands like a boxer psyching themselves up.

Logan smirked, circling you slowly, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and challenge. His confidence was infuriating—like he was untouchable, always one step ahead. But as he moved, you caught his focus was on your gloves, like he thought that was all you had to work with.

Big mistake.

You let your shoulders drop, exhaling slowly as if you were done. "Alright, you win," you said, feigning defeat. "You’re too good, Logan. I give up."

He tilted his head, one brow quirking in suspicion, but the grin never left his face. "Oh, c’mon now, don’t quit on me, sweetheart. Where’s that fire I saw a minute ago?"

"It’s gone," you sighed dramatically, letting your gloves hang at your sides. Then, as he paused in his pacing, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you in two quick strides. Logan’s smirk faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he sensed something coming.

Instead of throwing a punch, you leaned in and kissed him.

For a split second, Logan froze. His lips were warm and slightly parted, caught completely off guard by the sudden move. You felt his breath hitch against your mouth, and then—just as he started to kiss you back—you shifted your weight and swept your foot behind his ankle, knocking him clean off balance.

“Whoa—!” Logan grunted as he hit the mat with a thud, his broad shoulders absorbing most of the impact. He blinked up at you in shock, sprawled out flat on his back.

You straightened, grinning down at him as you tugged your gloves off one by one and tossed them aside. “Gotcha,” you said, hands on your hips.

He stared up at you, and you couldn’t tell if he was more surprised or impressed. Then, a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle that made your stomach flip. "Well, I’ll be damned. That was sneaky."

You crouched down beside him, trying to look innocent. “What’s the matter, big guy? Can’t handle a little creative thinking?”

“Creative thinking, huh?” Logan propped himself up on his elbows, his grin turning wolfish. “I don’t think that counts when you cheat.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Cheat? Cheat? I think you’re just mad I finally got the drop on you.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” he drawled, his tone playful but laced with a hint of a challenge. Before you could blink, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward. You let out a startled laugh as you tumbled down onto the mat, landing half on top of him.

“Logan!” you protested, trying to pull back, but his arms wrapped around your waist holding you in place. He was grinning up at you now, his eyes bright with amusement that made your breath catch.

“You’re gettin’ cocky, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But I gotta admit, that was a hell of a move.”

You smirked, leaning in just enough to meet his gaze head-on. “Guess you’re not as quick as you thought you were, huh?”

“Careful,” he murmured, his fingers brushing along your side. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might have to teach you another lesson.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back, your voice dropping to match his. “And what’s that?”

Instead of answering, Logan pulled you down the rest of the way and kissed you, slow and deliberate. His lips were warm and firm, and he kissed like he fought—with total confidence and just a hint of something wild beneath the surface. The world narrowed to just the two of you: the heat of his body against yours, the rough scrape of his stubble, the way his hand slid up your back like he didn’t want to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his voice was a low, satisfied rumble. “Lesson one,” he said, his smirk returning. “Never let your guard down.”

[pandapetals]

Our Shirt

You stole Logan's shirt.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

Ororo chuckled as you and she walked through the entrance of the mansion, her arm looped around yours as you stumbled a little, slightly tipsy, and found everything inexplicably hilarious.

"That guy was totally checking you out, Ro," you insisted, setting your shopping bags down with exaggerated care. "You should have given him your number."

Ororo rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth curled into a smile. "You think every guy is checking me out."

"Because they are!" You waved your hands dramatically in her direction, almost losing your balance. "I mean, look at you! You're practically radiating goddess vibes."

Ororo laughed, shaking her head as she gathered up her own bags. "You're a little drunk, aren’t you?"

"Just a little,” you giggled, leaning against her shoulder.

That’s when Logan appeared in the foyer, leaning casually against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching the two of you with a smirk. “Stop playing matchmaker when people don’t want it,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you looked over at him. "You have no sense of fun, Logan. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from Ororo. She got plenty of attention today.”

Ororo laughed, glancing over at Logan. “This will probably be the only time I agree with you, Logan," she said, giving you a quick hug before slipping past him. "Good luck with this one," she added with a wink, disappearing down the hallway.

Logan’s gaze shifted back to you, a faint, amused glint in his eye. “Is that my shirt?” he asked, taking a step closer, his tone low and slightly accusing.

You looked down at the oversized white tee you wore, pretending to be scandalized. “What happened to ‘hello, how are you?’” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist as he moved in closer. “Is my well-being not important?”

He snorted, resting his hands on your hips, pulling you snugly against him. "I’ve been lookin’ for that shirt all week, sweetheart."

You tilted your head back to look up at him, grinning. “You mean our shirt?”

He shook his head with a smirk, reaching down to pinch the fabric between his fingers. “I don’t remember signing off on that shared custody agreement.”

“Well, consider it officially shared,” you said, leaning up on your tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips, but Logan’s hands tightened on your waist, holding you in place.

“You’re a thief,” he murmured, his voice warm and teasing, his lips brushing yours. “First you steal my clothes, then you run off for a whole day and leave me here wondering where you went.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. “Were you… waiting up for me, Logan?”

A faint blush crept onto his cheeks, though he tried to cover it with a gruff huff. “Don’t get too cocky, gorgeous. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t gettin’ into trouble.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you leaned into him. "Just a girls' day, tough guy. Shopping, lunch, maybe a few too many glasses of wine…”

Logan’s hand moved up to your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “Figured as much. You got that look about you… all rosy and happy.”

You grinned up at him, your heart fluttering at the unexpected tenderness in his expression. “Guess I just missed you,” you whispered, letting your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe I’ll steal more of your clothes just to keep a piece of you with me.”

He let out a low chuckle, his forehead pressing against yours as he muttered, “Thief and a flirt. I’m in real trouble with you, aren’t I?”

"Absolutely," you said, pressing another kiss to his lips, this one slow and lingering. When you finally pulled back, you couldn’t resist adding, "Now come on. Let’s go inside so you can tell me all about how much you missed me."

Logan’s eyes narrowed playfully. “You keep pushin’ your luck, sweetheart.”

“Only because you love it,” you shot back, slipping out of his grasp with a wink as you headed towards the stairs.

As he followed you, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He might grumble about you stealing his clothes, but you both knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[pandapetals]

Mrs. Howlett

You get jealous of a student's mom trying to hit on Logan.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

You hated to admit it, but you could get a little jealous. Not that you ever had a real reason to be—Logan didn’t give other women a second glance, and he made it clear you were the only one he wanted. Most of the time, when someone flirted with him, you’d brush it off, secure in the knowledge that he was yours. Logan was usually too gruff, too uninterested, for anyone to make much headway with him anyway.

But today was different.

You were heading to his classroom to drop off some papers when you spotted him leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face as he talked to a woman you didn’t recognize. She looked young—probably a little too young than some of the other student’s parents, with sleek hair and an outfit that was more stylish than practical. Beside her stood a teenage boy, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly embarrassed.

But she? She was smiling up at Logan like he’d just hung the moon. Her hand even touched his arm briefly, a little too familiar, and you felt a flash of something hot and prickly ignite in your chest.

You tried to brush it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Logan didn’t even seem particularly invested in the conversation—just nodding along, probably humoring her because he had to be polite. And yet, the way she looked at him, hanging on his every word, had your jaw clenching before you realized it.

You took a breath, schooling your expression, but when you caught Logan’s eye over her shoulder, his smirk deepened, his gaze flicking to you with that glint of amusement he always got when he knew he had your attention. Oh, he’d noticed. Of course, he had.

Clearing your throat, you approached with an air of casual calm, though the jealousy simmering beneath the surface was anything but subtle.

“Oh, there you are, Logan,” you said, slipping your hand onto his arm with a bit more possessiveness than you’d planned. Your fingers tightened slightly, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of his bicep. “I was looking for you.”

The woman’s bright smile faltered for just a second, her gaze flicking down to your hand on his arm. She took a tiny step back, trying to recover her polite expression but with a hint of something else lurking in her eyes. “Oh, I didn’t realize… are you Miss… I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name?”

You felt Logan tense slightly, but you just smiled, leaning a little closer to him. “I���m Mrs. Howlett, actually.” Your voice was warm, but you let the words sink in, feeling a small thrill of satisfaction as you watched her face register the correction. Your fingers brushed up and down Logan’s arm in a slow, familiar rhythm, letting her know exactly where you stood. “And you are?”

She cleared her throat, glancing down at the teenage boy beside her. “I’m Liam’s mom,” she said, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder as if to keep herself anchored. “Logan—Mr. Howlett—was just telling me about the upcoming history project. I thought it would be good to get a sense of what Liam would be working on.”

Logan’s smirk widened as he looked down at you, clearly enjoying the subtle show of jealousy you rarely let slip. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer in a way that made his claim on you unmistakable.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice a low, amused rumble that you felt through his chest. “She was just askin’ about the assignment.”

You looked up at him, arching an eyebrow as you played along. “Of course. Well, Liam’s a very brilliant student,” you said sweetly, turning to the woman with a smile that held just a hint of a challenge. “Logan says he’s a natural at history. Must be quite a proud mom moment for you.”

The woman’s smile became a bit too tight, her expression polite but strained. She straightened, giving a brisk nod. “Of course. Well, I think I have all the information I need for now. Come along, Liam.”

As she ushered her son down the hallway, Logan’s quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, his arm still snugly wrapped around your waist. He waited until she was out of earshot before he leaned down, his lips brushing close to your ear.

“Didn’t know you could be the jealous type,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Should I be flattered?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t quite keep the blush from creeping up your cheeks. “I’m not jealous,” you replied, feigning nonchalance. “I just didn’t appreciate her… forgetting my name. I mean, it’s Mrs. Howlett, after all.”

Logan chuckled, his warm breath grazing your skin as his fingers traced lazy circles along your hip. “I gotta say, darlin’… I kinda liked seein’ you all protective and possessive. Not somethin’ I get to see often.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t quite keep the grin off your face. “Oh, don’t let it go to your head,” you shot back, trying to sound nonchalant. “But I guess I might get a little territorial when some random woman decides to ignore the fact that you’re taken.”

His smile softened, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, lingering just long enough for his warmth to seep into you. “Relax, gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice low and fond. “You know you’re the only one I’d ever put up with.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow with a playful spark in your eyes. “Maybe I’ll keep you on your toes more often, then. Just to see that little possessive streak of yours come out.”

Logan’s laugh rumbled through his chest, his hand drifting lower to give your hip a slow, teasing squeeze. “Be my guest,” he drawled, his lips curving into a smirk. “I don’t mind remindin’ everyone who I belong to.”

You tilted your head, your fingers tracing along his arm savoring the solid warmth beneath your touch. “Good,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “because I don’t plan on sharing.”

Logan leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss. His mouth was warm and unhurried, lingering as if he wanted to make sure you felt every word he hadn’t spoken. When he finally pulled back, you were left breathless, a soft heat blooming in your cheeks.

He looked down at you, the playful gleam in his eyes softening. His forehead rested against yours, and whispered, his voice rough but gentle, “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I’m all yours. Always have been, always will be.”

[pandapetals]

[pandapetals]

Listen to me. Old man logan at the bar, reader trying to pick him up. Logan telling reader he has tattoos older than her. You know what happens next

ANON you got me blushing…I rarely write about Old Man Logan but he can get it, obviously. Here’s a little drabble. Don’t mind me being a little feral.

old man logan x fem!reader - drabble, sexual tension, teasing, flirting, no y/n used, light reader description

You had been watching him all night from across the bar, his presence magnetic in an impossible way to ignore. He sat nursing a glass of whiskey, his fingers curling around the glass like it held answers to questions he didn’t want to ask. His salt-and-pepper beard framed a jawline sharp enough to cut, and the way his suit—black and white, slightly rumpled—clung to his broad shoulders made it clear he wasn’t your average patron.

Even the bartender seemed wary of him, quickly refilling his drink without so much as a word. Yet, instead of scaring you off, his brooding demeanor pulled you in like gravity. You weren’t leaving tonight without at least trying to get his attention.

After one last glance in the bathroom mirror, you made sure everything was perfect—lips painted a glossy red, your dress hugging every curve just right, neckline dipping low enough to make an impression. If this guy wasn’t interested, he had to be made of stone.

With deliberate steps, you approached the bar, leaning casually against it just close enough to catch his eye. Only, his eyes didn’t move from the glass in front of him.

You sighed internally, adjusting your stance before sliding into the stool next to him, his scent—a mix of whiskey, leather, and something unmistakably masculine—flooding your senses.

“You look a little lonely over here,” you purred, letting your voice drop into its sexiest register.

He didn’t even glance your way, his gruff drawl cutting through the noise of the bar. “Sweetheart, you’re not the first lady to try, but I’m not interested.”

The bluntness should have stung, but instead, it made your curiosity flare. His voice, low and rough as gravel, sent a shiver down your spine even as it delivered rejection.

“Well, don’t you have an ego,” you shot back, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “What makes you think I’m trying to pick you up? Maybe I just wanted to enjoy my drink in some decent company.”

His hand stilled on his glass, and he finally looked at you, those piercing hazel eyes locking onto yours. The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve got scars older than you, gorgeous. Let’s not pretend you walked over here to talk about the weather.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a fraction closer. “And what if I did? Maybe I like my men... weathered.”

That pulled a soft chuckle from him, low and throaty, his smirk growing more pronounced as he tilted his head slightly. “Look, gorgeous. Thanks for making an old man like me…feel something but you don’t want to take me home.” 

You shrugged, running a finger along the rim of your glass. “Maybe I’m not most people.”

Logan leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping over you with a calculated slowness that made your pulse quicken. “You think you’ve got me figured out already, huh?”

“Not yet,” you admitted, your voice dropping to a near whisper.

He leaned in just enough to make your breath catch, his voice dropping to a near growl. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game, darlin’.”

“Good thing I like danger,” you shot back, holding his gaze, daring him to look away first.

His smirk widened, and he raised his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. “Alright, gorgeous,” he said, his tone a mix of challenge and amusement. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

[pandapetals]

okay, logan with reader being scott's sister has won! i'm aiming for 50k words filled with longing and stolen glances lol butttt i already have a different idea for 70s logan with reader inspired by daisy jones and it'll be a one shot.

Thinking of doing another fic. The main idea I have right now is yearning/longing between reader and logan. Leave suggestions in the comments.

[pandapetals]

thank you all for the comments, love and stuff. i'm an introvert who never knows how to respond but i truly appreciate it. as someone who dreams of being a published author, it means the world to me when i see y'all show my writing love. sorry if i don't respond but i don't use tumblr that much...i usually login in like twice a day.

also i am working on requests, a new fic (once the poll is done) and christmas one shots for my professor logan series. <3

[pandapetals]

Admiring

You admire Logan as he sleeps.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

There was something about waking up next to Logan that made your heart swell. You rarely woke before him—being a notoriously heavy sleeper—but on the rare mornings when you did, you took full advantage of the quiet. Stealing those brief moments to simply admire him.

Your gaze started at his face, where all the rough edges and harsh lines of the day had softened in sleep. He looked so much younger like this, the perpetual tension gone from his features. The lines between his brows usually furrowed in some deep thought or quiet frustration, had smoothed out, leaving him looking almost boyish. There was a gentleness in his expression that felt like a secret, something only you got to see in these still, early hours.

The faint laugh lines around his eyes caught your attention next. You loved those lines—they were hard-won, a testament to every rare smile, every shared joke, every moment he’d let himself relax with you. You could almost imagine his eyes now, that warm, hazel shade flecked with hints of green and amber, intense but tender when he looked at you. You could stare into those eyes for hours if he’d let you, but you knew he’d tease you about it, muttering something gruff to cover the fact that he secretly liked it.

Your gaze drifted down to his nose, slightly crooked from a lifetime of battles and broken bones. He always grumbled about it, calling it “too rough” or “busted up,” but you adored it. It was him —perfectly imperfect. Sometimes, just to make him smile, you’d lean over and press the lightest kiss to the bridge of his nose, and he’d let out a little huff, pretending to be annoyed, but the corner of his mouth would always twitch up.

Unable to resist, you reached out, letting your fingertips brush lightly over his lips. For all of Logan’s rough edges—the calloused hands, the gruff voice, the intimidating scowl—his lips were always soft, a surprising contradiction that you adored. Those lips that pressed gentle kisses to your forehead or cheek in unguarded moments, gestures that spoke volumes he’d never put into words.

Your fingers drifted down, tracing the line of his stubbled jaw, feeling the rough texture beneath your touch. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and the slight scruff suited him, adding to that rugged, untamed look he wore so effortlessly. Just as you were about to pull your hand back, his breathing changed, and he stirred, his eyes fluttering open.

When his gaze found yours, still hazy with sleep but filled with softness, his lips curved into a slow, lazy smile, and a soft, rumbling laugh escaped him, warm and gravelly from sleep.

“Caught you starin’, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a deep, sleepy drawl that sent a thrill through you.

A blush crept up your cheeks, but you shrugged, unable to hide the grin spreading across your face. “Can you blame me? It’s the only time I get to look at you without you making some smartass remark.”

Logan chuckled, his hand reaching up to catch yours, bringing your fingers to his lips for a gentle kiss. "I can still make plenty of remarks, darlin’. Don’t think sleep’s gonna stop me."

You laughed, entwining your fingers with his as he held your hand against his chest, right over his heart. "Well, maybe I just like seeing this side of you," you teased softly. "The side that doesn’t have his guard up."

He rolled his eyes, but his thumb traced small, affectionate circles on the back of your hand. "You’re lucky I’m half-asleep, or I’d have to give you hell for that," he muttered, though the warmth in his gaze betrayed him.

You shifted closer, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, savoring the familiar roughness of his stubble against your skin. "Lucky me, then."

Logan let out a low, contented sigh, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you down against his chest. You nestled into him, your bodies fitting together with the kind of ease that felt like coming home. His fingers found their way into your hair, brushing through it slowly, his touch gentle.

"Keep starin' if you want, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble beneath you. "Maybe you can even tell me what you're thinkin'."

You smiled, resting your chin on his chest so you could look up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I bet you’d love to hear that," you teased. "Might inflate that already massive ego of yours."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Ego, huh? Ain't heard you complainin' about it before."

You rolled your eyes, giving his chest a light poke. "Please. I just don’t want you getting all cocky on me. I’m sure you already know I think you’re—" you hesitated, letting the word hang in the air, before settling on a playful smile. "— alright ."

Logan scoffed, pretending to be offended. "Just alright ? After all the times you’ve stared at me like I’m some kinda masterpiece?"

"Masterpiece? Now who’s inflating their ego?" you shot back, laughing softly as you leaned up to press a quick kiss to his jawline. "You’re… okay, I guess."

He grinned, his fingers tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Just okay, huh? I think I’ll need to change your mind." His voice dropped to a low murmur, his breath warm against your lips. "Or maybe you’re just tryin’ to rile me up."

You gave him a sly smile, pressing your palms against his chest. "Maybe I am," you whispered, leaning in close enough that your noses brushed, your heart fluttering at the way his gaze softened.

Logan’s expression melted, the teasing edge giving way to something softer and vulnerable. He held you close, his thumb gently tracing your cheek, his eyes tracing your face like he was memorizing every line. "For the record," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "you’re a little more than just alright to me."

Your teasing facade faded as warmth bloomed in your chest. "Good," you replied softly, letting your fingers trail along his collarbone. "Because I think you’re more than just alright , too."

Logan let out a soft chuckle, closing the distance between you by capturing your lips in a warm, lingering kiss. You melted into him, your arms winding around his neck as you drew him closer, savoring the familiar heat of him, the way his rough edges softened under your touch. When you finally pulled back, a little breathless, you caught the cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You narrowed your eyes, giving him a playful shove. "See? That right there. You’re so cocky, thinking you can just kiss me and I’ll—”

Before you could finish, Logan leaned in again, brushing his lips against yours, but you pressed a hand against his chest, keeping him at a teasing distance.

"Actually," you murmured, biting your lip to keep from laughing, "is it concerning that I love you this much? I mean… I could probably write an essay or two just on how gorgeous I find your… left arm."

Logan’s eyes widened, and he let out a bark of laughter, pulling back to look at you in mock disbelief. "You’re jokin’."

You shrugged a glimmer of mischief in your eyes. "Maybe…not."

He shook his head, still chuckling. "You’re tellin’ me you’ve thought about writin’ a paper on me? Like, actually sittin’ down with a pen and paper and goin’ on about how ‘gorgeous’ my left arm is?"

You pretended to consider it, tapping a finger against your chin. "Well, it may have crossed my mind once or twice… and maybe I started a draft. Just a few sentences about your biceps. The way they, you know, flex when you cross your arms all grumpy." You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. "What can I say? You inspire me."

Logan’s laughter softened, his expression turning tender as he looked down at you, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "You’re somethin’ else, you know that?" His thumb traced small circles on your hip as he held you close. "Here I was thinkin’ you were kiddin’."

"Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t," you replied, flashing him a teasing grin. "Guess you’ll never know, will you?"

Logan leaned down, his forehead pressing gently against yours, his voice dropping to that low, affectionate rumble that never failed to make your heart flutter. “Oh, sweetheart… if you really wrote that essay, I’m gonna find it.”

You laughed, but there was a nervousness beneath it, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “Trust me, Logan, it’d probably be the most embarrassing thing you’d ever read.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk curving his lips as his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, lingering there. “You think I’d mind?” he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow circle against your temple. “I’d love to read what my beautiful wife thinks about me… and my ‘mighty left arm.’”

You let out a laugh, nudging him lightly as you tried to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “Alright, alright! You’re officially making me blush now, so stop it. I’ll keep the love essays in my head. Just be grateful I don’t start quoting poetry about your biceps in front of the team.”

Logan chuckled, pulling you even closer until you were nestled against him, his hand sliding up into your hair. “Keep talkin’ like that,” he joked, his breath warm against your cheek, “and I just might have to start writin’ poetry about you .”

You raised an eyebrow, biting back a grin as you traced a finger along his jaw. “Oh, please, that would just—” you leaned in closer, dropping your voice to a whisper, “—turn me on.”

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “Careful, sweetheart,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to your lips. “You’re not makin’ it easy for me to behave.”

You smirked, sliding your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you met his gaze, equal parts challenge and affection. “Who says I want you to behave?”

Logan’s eyes darkened, the playful glint replaced with something warmer, deeper. He tilted your chin up, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips that made your heart skip. When he finally pulled back, he let his forehead rest against yours again.

“You know,” he began softly, his tone unguarded in a way that was rare for him, “maybe I’ll write more poems, just for you.” His eyes held yours, steady and sincere. “But it wouldn’t be about your arm or some little detail… It’d be about all the things I love about you.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your heart swelling at the raw honesty in his gaze. His words lingered in the air, a quiet promise wrapped around you like a warm embrace. You couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across your face, the tenderness in his expression making you feel as if you were the only person in the world.

"I've been begging you to write me more, you know," you whispered, brushing your nose against his. “So if you did… I’d cherish every word. Every single one.”

His lips quirked into a gentle smile, and he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he looked at you with a depth of emotion that made your heartache. "Then I guess I better get to work," he murmured, his voice rough with affection. "You deserve all the words, darlin'.”

You laughed softly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, your gaze never leaving his. "You and your words are perfect just as they are, Logan. You don’t have to be a poet for me.”

He let out a low, almost shy chuckle, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good thing, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who’d wanna read ‘em.”

“I’ll take every word,” you whispered, resting your hands against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. “Because they’re yours.”

[pandapetals]

Thank you for recommending me!

LOGAN “JAMES” HOWLETT / WOLVERINE / FIC RECS

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all logan howlett stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!)

MASTERLIST • X-MEN • 11/19/24

LOGAN HOWLETT ONE

@pretty-little-mind33 ✰ the great war When you get unwillingly administered the cure, you find solace in someone you don't think you deserve to see again. ✰ dear reader You think Logan hates you but all he's doing is saving you from himself. He didn't think his plan would explode in his face.

@little-miss-dilf-lover ✰ redamancy you often worry you can never keep up with your husband's continuous acts of love and care, your attempts always seeming to come up short. logan catches on and shows you that there’s nothing for you to prove.

@logansbaby ✰ between your thighs

@selfcarecap ✰ practice Your roommate Logan lets you practise giving a blowjob on him for your date with another guy. ✰ sharing is caring ft. peter parker Your new teammate Peter Parker has a huge crush on you, and your boyfriend Logan has always wanted to watch someone else fuck you. It’s Peter’s birthday and Logan decides to share. ✰ muse Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them. 

@d1stalker ✰ suspension bridge effect You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay ✰ a peaceful repose After some time away on a mission, Logan comes home, and all he wants to do is be around you ✰ all of you, all of me In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

@joelsgoldrush ✰ never is a promise You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver. ✰ epiphany Superheroes and mutants weren’t enough. No—the universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the “Worst” Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth. ✰ give me all of that ultraviolence You give Logan head for the first time. ✰ guilty pleasure After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

@eufezco ✰ birds of a feather the tva erased you from your timeline when logan died, you've been living in the void since then.

@not-neverland06 ✰ kid? You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. ✰ you’re not her You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day?

@guiltyasdave ✰ help me hold onto you Logan deals with feeling guilty after he's accidentally cut you with his claws in his sleep.

@eupheme ✰ sugar, sugar part 2 part 3 Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate. ✰ casual It doesn’t matter that your heart flips when you look at him. It’s Logan. It’s just casual.

@skywalkerslvt ✰ truth serum You and Logan, drugged with truth serum, get trapped in separate cells during a mission.

@moonlight-prose ✰ dreams unwind, loves a state of mind they told him to change the future, to right the wrongs that the world caused. but he didn't do it for them. he did it for the chance to see his lover one more time. even if he shared a different history than them.

@thebestandworstdayofjune ✰ in the refrigerator light part 2 part 3 you are somehow unprepared to run into Logan while on the quest for a midnight snack... in the house you both live in.

@rqnarok ✰ old!man logan ✰ breeding kink

@bpmiranda ✰ innocent!reader

@logansluvr ✰ taste You won’t admit it, but it stung when you realized you were just a placeholder while Logan waited for Jean AGAIN. Now that she has him, she realizes that no matter how hard she tries there will always be you somewhere on him…Or Jean and Logan both fucked themselves over while you enjoy the aftermath.

@pandapetals ✰ mr. darcy halloween costumes, logan dresses up as Mr. Darcy, pride and prejudice ✰ haircut Logan's hair has grown out and he wants you to cut it.

@wadewnstonwilson ✰ need you close when your busy schedule leaves logan feeling neglected, he craves your attention in his own way—by showing up with small, thoughtful gestures and lingering touches that hint at his pent-up need. despite his rugged exterior, logan’s vulnerability shines through as he tries to remind you he’s still there, waiting.

@logaenhowlett ✰ something happens and i’m head over heels What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

@pedroscurls ✰ runaway bride on the day of your wedding, you find out that your maid of honor and husband-to-be has been hooking up behind your back... and you run directly into the arms of a stranger to help you cope with the sudden betrayal.

@yxtkiwiyxt ✰ into the unknown part 2 part 3 Logan becomes emotionally constipated when he accidentally hurts you during one of his nightmares.

@happy74827 ✰ say yes to heaven Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

@gothgoblinbabe ✰ she wolf You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

@sacredsorceress ✰ scars every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him.

@shellshocklove ✰ snapshot short on money for rent, your joke about starting an only fans account, to earn some extra cash, goes over logan's head. but when an accident with charles puts your life in danger, logan takes you up on your offer.

[pandapetals]

Hi hi! What about old man!Logan thinking you’re too sweet for him and he’s too old for you but he can’t stay away from you. And you wouldn’t like it anyway, because he has everything you need and want.

AHHH i just wanna say I love your account and writing so much. Thank you for the request.

old man logan x fem!reader - drabble, flirting, teasing, slight angst, no y/n used, no reader description

“Sweetheart,” Logan drawled, his voice rough yet tinged with warmth as you shifted on his lap, teasing him with that playful gleam in your eye. His hands tightened instinctively on your hips, a steadying anchor against your mischief. “This is the last time. I promise.”

You tilted your head, a soft smirk tugging at your lips. “That’s what you said last time... and the time before that... and—”

“Alright, alright,” he interrupted, exhaling a gruff sigh that couldn’t hide the hint of amusement beneath it. “But I mean it this time. I’m too old for you. You deserve someone who can keep up.”

Before the words could sink in and twist your heart, you reached up, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, moving slowly over the weathered scars that mapped his face. Each one told a story—of fights fought, losses endured, and battles survived. Some were deep, others faint, but all of them were unmistakably his.

“Do you think I could ever stay away from you?” you murmured, your voice soft as your touch lingered, your thumb brushing the roughness of his cheek. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Logan. You need me, and we both know it.”

Your words made him pause, his chest rising and falling with a slow, steady breath as he studied you. 

“You’re too good for this life,” he finally said, his tone quieter, almost pained. “Too good for me.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the bridge of his nose, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “That’s not your call to make,” you said, your voice firm but laced with tenderness. “I’ve made my choice, Logan. It’s you.”

His hands loosened on your hips, his thumbs brushing lightly against your sides as his gaze softened. “You don’t make things easy, do ya?” he muttered, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

You smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Since when do you like easy?”

A rough chuckle escaped him, and for a moment, the weight he carried seemed to lift just a little. “Guess I don’t.”

He leaned forward then, his forehead resting gently against yours, the closeness grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. “You really aren’t gonna give up on me, are ya?”

“Not a chance,” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair, gently tilting his head back until his hazel eyes met yours. “Now,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye as you leaned in close, “where were we…”

Before he could answer, your lips met his in a kiss, slow and deliberate laced with mischief. He sighed into the kiss, his hands sliding up your back to pull you closer, his rough touch sending a shiver throughout your body. 

“Oh, I was teasing you,” you murmured against his lips, your smirk evident in your voice as you shifted in his lap, your hips moving just enough to draw a groan from deep in his chest.

“Darlin’,” Logan growled softly, his grip tightening on your waist as his eyes darkened, warning and want mingling in his gaze. “You’re playin’ with fire.”

You tilted your head, your smirk widening as you trailed your fingers down the line of his jaw. “Good thing I’m not afraid of getting burned.”